Ten Lost Paths
by Sandshrew777
Summary: Ten possible paths were eviscerated by the utterance of four words. HarryLuna in a few scenes.


**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling created these characters and this universe, not me. I own only my own insights.

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_"Oh no," said Luna. "No, I think I'll just go down and have some pudding and wait for all to turn up...It always does in the end...Well, have a nice holiday, Harry."_

_"Yeah...yeah, you too."_

_She walked away from him, and as he watched her go, he found that the terrible weight in his stomach seemed to have lessened slightly._

---Page 864, _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix._

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"Nice holiday? At the Dursleys? You must be kidding," Harry scoffed. Luna turned her head sideways a little, a confused look on her usually placid pallor.

"The Dursleys? Is that some sort of odd vacation spot? You know, those Muggle resorts are terrible places to go. The hotel rooms are infested with Brumbleclangers," affirmed Luna, nodding violently. Harry resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow, and went on to explain.

"No, the Dursleys are my closest living relatives. I go to live with them every summer. I have to," Harry murmured darkly. Luna, ever unpredictable, patted him on the shoulder.

"Think of it this way, Harry. Things could be worse. You could be a Fireflea in an troll's hair," she nodded again, and then headed down the corridor. Harry, a little confused, watched her vanish around the corner. He then turned around, shaking his head, and laughed to himself a little as he headed for Gryffindor Tower. Leave it to Luna Lovegood to say something like that.

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"Yeah, you too. Hope you find some Crumple-Horned Snorkacks," Harry said off-handedly. Luna turned, gave Harry a wide grin, and then headed in the direction of the Great Hall. Harry rolled his eyes as he read the short notice Luna had fastened up onto the wall.

_To those who have taken my things this year, please return them before the end of the Leaving Feast. _

_Especially my trunk. _

_Thank you,_

_Luna Lovegood_

It was probably the most lucid thing he'd ever heard---or seen, as the case may be---come out of Luna.

Harry sighed, and moved on to the Fat Lady's portrait. He gave her the password and headed straight up the stairs, then into the Fifth Years' dormitory. Crossing the room in three quick strides, Harry sat down on his four-poster and opened his once-packed trunk. He dug past books, his Invisibility Cloak, spare parchment, and other random assorted bits of paraphenalia before he finally reached the thing for which he had been searching:

A necklace, comprised of Butterbeer caps. He kissed it lightly, then grabbed some spare bits of parchment and Spellotape, ready to give Hedwig one last errand before the school year was over.

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Harry said nothing as Luna walked away, humming an odd tune. Rethinking his plan to head back to the Common Room, Harry let his legs take them wherever they wished as he wandered, lost in thought. Sirius was gone, and it was all his fault.

No.

It wasn't.

It was Snape's fault. Snape could have alerted the Order, if he hadn't been such a git! Involuntarily, Harry's hands became fists as he started to somewhat stomp through the halls. One of the portraits admonished him, and he promptly cursed it with a Silencing Charm. Had Snape acted fast enough, Sirius would still be alive. It was all Snape's fault, and Harry was determined to exact revenge on him for it.

He hadn't even noticed that he'd made it to the Dungeons, and was now in front of Snape's office. He was tempted to break in and wreck it, but he knew of the wards Snape had placed on the door. Severus Snape was no fool; he knew that many students hated his guts. Revolving, now, and heading back to the Common Room, Harry felt a little better. He had someone to blame, and he had a plan: make Severus Snape regret the day he ever met Harry James Potter.

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Luna had made it maybe three or four steps before she heard Harry's voice again.

"Wait up, Luna!"

She stopped in her tracks as Harry strode over to her, taking some of the notices from her hands.

"Let me at least help you put these notices up."

Luna beamed and handed him a spare roll of Spellotape.

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"You, too," Harry smiled a little. Luna turned and headed down the corridor. Watching her, Harry had a brainstorm.

"Hey, Luna!" he called.

"Yes, Harry?" she queried, not turning around.

"Tell me if you don't get all your stuff back. We can, ah...talk to Flitwick or Dumbledore or something," Harry proposed, feeling a little awkward talking to Luna's backside. Which, to tell the truth, wasn't that bad of a view...

"Thanks, Harry. But they'll give it back. They always do," Luna shrugged, and made her way around the corner. Once she knew she was out of Harry's earshot, she stopped.

"Was Harry Potter just checking out my bum?" she mused to herself, posting another notice on the wall.

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"Yeah, same to you. Good luck finding your things," Harry muttered. continuing down the corridor to the Fat Lady. Not even the pathetic situation of Luna Lovegood could make Harry feel any better. Sure, he felt bad for her, but there were bigger fish to fry. His godfather was dead---murdered by his own cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange. As usual, it was all his fault. If he hadn't been so thick to take Kreacher's word for granted...if he'd only thought of using the mirror...if he'd fought a little harder to understand Occlumency...

Before he knew it, he was in the dormitory, lying down. Harry lost all track of time as he laid there, blaming himself for all the problems in the world. If he hadn't been born, none of this would have ever happened. It would have been all Neville's fault, Harry realised, as he stared at the boy's four-poster. Neville would have done better. Neville Longbottom would have been a better Boy-Who-Lived than Harry Potter.

But, Harry thought, he still wouldn't have a family. The Lestranges would have come after his parents, and he'd still be living with the Dursleys. Or, maybe, he'd have gone to live with Sirius. Then, Sirius wouldn't have had to go to Azkaban, and Peter Pettigrew wouldn't have betrayed anyone...

As the time flew by and Harry tottered on the edge of sleep, one thought was prevalent in his mind:

I wish I'd never been born.

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"Mmm. You too," Harry responded quietly, heading for the Fat Lady's portrait. He supplied the password and clambered through the portrait hole, staring around at the familiar Common Room, at a loss for what to do.

"Hey, Harry. Have a seat," invited a familiar voice near the extinguished fireplace. Harry twirled to meet the voice, and found it was Dean Thomas, who was pointing to the seat opposite him. Figuring it wouldn't exactly be polite to shrug him off, Harry strode over to the armchair and sat down across from Dean.

"How are you? Heard you were kinda down," Dean leaned forward slightly, a concerned look on his face.

"That's the understatement of the year," Harry scoffed, despite himself. A sympathetic look made its way onto Dean's face.

"You wanna talk about it, mate?" he offered.

Harry shook his head.

"All right, then," Dean shrugged and sat back in his armchair. Harry drifted off in thought, and before he knew it, he was dozing off...

"Harry. Hey, Harry. Time to go to bed, mate," whispered a voice near Harry's left ear. His eyes shot open and he found he was staring into the face of Ron Weasley.

"Ron? What time is it?"

"Around eleven. Thought you might want to go sleep in the dorm instead of down here," Ron shrugged.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be up in a second," Harry murmured, stretching. Ron headed for the stairs, taking them three at a time. As he did so, Harry examined the armchair that Dean had obviously vacated. Next to it, on a small table, lay a sketchpad. Curious, Harry wandered over to it and was surprised to see a sketch of him, staring off into space, sitting in an armchair by the fireplace. Dean had captured his expression expertly; Harry realised that he seemed dark and brooding in the sketch, as if he'd been suffering from depression for months. His eyes were large and mournful, and his shoulders seemed weighed down by some invisible weight.

He looked, in a word, horrid.

Harry shivered as he set the sketchpad back down. He had to get over this, somehow. Yes, Sirius was gone...but there was a time for grieving, and that time had passed. It was time to move on with life.

As Harry entered the dorm, he smiled as he passed Dean's four-poster.

"Thanks, Dean," he whispered before clambering into bed.

A grin appeared on the face of the sleeping Dean as Harry's light snores joined the cacophony of sleeping noises from the other boys.

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"Thanks, Luna. Hope those people give your things back," Harry wished sincerely. Luna just gave him a serene smile and turned to head down another corridor, humming "Weasley is our King" underneath her breath.

Harry turned up the corridor towards the Fat Lady, his mind awhirl. Some people were just plain rotten---stealing Luna's stuff, just because she was different. Then again, isn't that what people feared? People don't like those that go against the flow of things. The weirdos of the world get alienated because they don't do things. Harry thought of Dumbledore as he pondered this. Although he was angry at the man, he couldn't deny that Albus Dumbledore was a weird bloke. He was great, but he was misunderstood. The _Daily Prophet_ wrote all that stuff about him---and Harry himself---because they just didn't get him. They didn't understand, so they pontificated (a word Harry had picked up from Hermione; who knew she'd have a positive influence on Harry's vocabulary?) and panicked, criticizing and disbelieving until the evidence was right before their eyes. Even then, some still refused to believe it---like Umbridge and Fudge.

Harry shrugged. Some people were never going to understand, and realising that now made Harry feel a little better.

"Are you just going to stand there all night, or are you going to give me the password, boy?" the Fat Lady demanded imperiously, somewhat bored. Harry chuckled, despite himself, and provided her the password. She swung open with an annoyed huff, and he climbed through the portrait hole with a smile on his face.

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"I'll try," Harry answered half-heartedly as he walked towards the Fat Lady.

"Having a bad night, dear?" the Fat Lady inquired, worried about one of her residents.

"You have no idea," Harry muttered.

"It'll get better, dear, you'll see," she reassured.

"Hope so," Harry murmured, giving her the password.

"Oh, Harry dear?" the Fat Lady spoke up as she swung out.

"Yes?"

"Remember: when the sun goes down, everything gets dark and cold. But, when morning comes, the sun rises again and everything warms up. Life's like that, sweetie," she reminded sweetly.

"Thanks," Harry softly replied, smiling as he climbed through the portrait hole. Maybe, just maybe, the Fat Lady was right. The sun would rise again, and there were happy times ahead. He just had to wait for them.

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"You too," Harry responded quietly. He stared at the floor for a few moments as Luna walked away. Gathering his nerve, he called out to her.

"Yes, Harry?" Luna's eyes, a brilliant sapphire hue, were now locked onto Harry's, and he found that he couldn't look away.

"Why don't we walk in together? I could do with some pudding, too," he swallowed past the lump in his throat and smiled a little.

"Sure. Why not?" Luna grinned placidly. "I'll just post the last of these notices along the way with a Sticking Charm. You can help if you like," she offered as Harry walked with her towards the Great Hall. They chatted along the way, Harry's mood lightening considerably and the notices in Luna's hands slowly disappearing. All too soon, they reached the doors of the Great Hall. Harry held one open for her, and she beamed her gratitude. As he followed her inside, all eyes seemed to turn as one to regard the pair. Whispers soon broke out, and as the two went to separate to head to their separate tables, Luna grabbed Harry's sleeve.

"What?" Harry asked, turning around. Luna suddenly reached up and kissed him on the mouth, catching his mouth open in surprise. Just as Harry relaxed into the kiss, however, Luna broke away sharply.

"They needed dinner and a show," she explained to a confused Harry, smiling serenely as she sat down at her usual spot at the Ravenclaw table. After a few moments, Harry shook his head, as if to clear it, then headed over to Ron and Hermione, sitting in the spot they had created for him.

"Getting some action from Loony Lovegood, eh, Harry?" asked Seamus as Harry took his seat.

"Hey. Don't call her 'Loony'," Harry replied, digging into his pudding with abandon.


End file.
